


Five Christmases Robin and Marian Never Had

by Lotusflower85



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Merry Christmas, here's an everybody lives au, nothing compared to the actual show though let's be real, probably with a few historical inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotusflower85/pseuds/Lotusflower85
Summary: Five Christmases in a life Robin and Marian never had.





	

**1.**

She stands in Sherwood, so cold she can’t remember being otherwise, even though the hot sands of the Holy Land are a not so distant memory.  The forest is blanketed in white snow, concealing the well-trod paths, alighting on the spindly branches of birch trees and blanketing the undergrowth, giving the entire forest a ghostly feel that settles crisply beneath her skin.  

It is fitting, Marian considers, since she is now a dead man like the rest of Robin’s gang.  The reality of her situation settles upon her as cold as her surroundings; there is no way back, no warm hearth waiting for her in the castle, no longer any way to overhear whispers and deal in secrets.  There is not even Guy to protect her, for he has turned irrevocably to treason, moving to kill the King even as Marian shielded him with her body.  It was only Robin’s timely arrow that saved her, and yet her bitterness was great for he had been right, and she wrong.  In the end Guy makes his choice as she made hers, and he slunk away injured but alive. 

Nothing is left of the life Marian once lived: her father cold in the ground, her home burnt to ashes, and Nottingham more than ever under the Sheriff’s sole reign.

Sherwood must be her home now, and she must learn to fight in a different way.  She can no longer keep to the shadows, no longer play the noble Lady and keep her subversion behind a mask.  The thought is as freeing as it is terrifying. 

Warm arms enclose her from behind, long fingers entwining with hers and she allows herself to be drawn into his embrace.   The chill under her skin abates, and she leans back into his arms.    

“Don’t be so glum,” Robin murmurs softly into her ear, with that teasing lilt that infuriates and entices her in equal measure.  “It’s Christmas.”

“So it is,” she says, and thinks back to those terrible days in the Holy Land.  “I never thought I’d see another.”

“I promise there will be many more,” Robin says and holds her tighter.  “One day we will return to Locksley, and have Christmastide as we once did, do you remember?”

Marian nods, a smile finally gracing her lips.  “There was music, and a great feast for noblemen and peasants alike.  Holly and ivy would be strung up around the Manor, and the Yule log would burn until Twelfth Night.”  

It seems like a lifetime ago, when she and Robin were still children who dreamed that anything was possible.  Robin still believes that, his optimism absolute, but Marian fears those childhood joys may never be recaptured.  

“As for now,” Robin says, holding her a bit tighter.  “I have nothing to give you.”

She turns in his arms, her heart warm and full despite the bitter cold that surrounds them.  Perhaps they will never be children again, so carefree and pure that they think the ills of the world will never touch them.  But she thinks perhaps they are stronger, their love deeper, for knowing, for struggling, for fighting.  

“Yes you do,” she whispers, and kisses him.  

 

**2.**

It is close to midnight and Robin is pacing a trail through the snow which covers the forest floor while Marian watches, leaning against a tree and so amused by his distress that she almost doesn’t feel the icy trunk pressing against her back.

“He can’t be trusted,” Robin says, running one hand through his hair.  “And even if he could, he doesn’t deserve our forgiveness.”

“He hasn’t asked for it,” Marian points out.  “He said he came back because its the right thing to do.”

“No, he said he wanted to make things right,” Robin argues with a scowl.  “Completely different.”

“So what if he _is_ seeking absolution?” Marian counters.  “Shouldn’t that be commended?”

Robin halts and turns to her, folding his arms across his chest petulantly.  “You have a great deal of understanding for a man who almost killed you.” 

Marian shrugs, her once complicated feelings for Guy seeming distant and unimportant.  Life in Sherwood has crystallised her choice, and she no longer feels torn when she looks at either of them.  Now she sees Guy only as a potential ally - one with valuable information about the King’s return.  And she must admit she feels somewhat vindicated that he may still become the good man she always felt he could be - if only Robin will give him a chance.    

“It seems unchristian to turn away a pentitant man at this time of year,” she says, hoping to appeal to Robin’s religious fervor. “Especially one who can help us.  Think, Robin!  The King coming home, perhaps everything we wanted finally achieved - getting married, a new life in Locksley, being in a position to actually _help_ the people rather than simply alleviate their suffering.” 

Robin is not unmoved, and takes a few steps towards her although his arms are still locked tight.  “But how can we trust him?”  

“He could have gone to the Sheriff with this information,” Marian says.  “He came to us instead.”

“He came to _you_ ,” Robin spits out, and glowers.

Marian gives a pearly laugh and draws close to him, tugging on his folded arms until he relents and takes her into his embrace.  “You’re not still worried about that, are you?”   

“No,” Robin murmurs, but she still hears the doubt in his voice.  

“I love you, Robin,” she says, pressing her cheek against his chest and holding him tight.  She says the words so infrequently, but hopes he understands how much she means them.  “Only you.”

Robin relaxes, breathing a sigh into her hair.  “Alright then.”

 

**3.**

She has been in labour for almost ten hours and Marian curses the day she ever met Robin of Locksley.  She hates his wit and charm that made her fall for him twice over, damns his insatiable thirst for her despite how much she enjoys the activity, and reviles her eagerness for motherhood.  

They were married by King Richard himself in Locksley church the day his army swarmed into Nottingham to depose the Sheriff.  She wore a green dress and a crown of roses in her hair but even that memory cannot relieve the pain which cripples her in another agonising wave.

The Midwife tells her to push.  Marian wants to strangle her until she can no longer speak.

She thinks of the time she was stabbed in the belly with a dagger, and of Djaq’s precise surgery.  She thinks of the time her heart shattered on the travel to the Holy Land, thinking Robin and the rest of his gang were dead.  Neither compares to what she is feeling now, but Marian tells herself that at the time she thought it the worst pain she’d ever experienced.  But she’d recovered from her injury, and she’d lived to see Robin again.  She can survive this.  

Many torturous minutes later she hears a baby cry and the pain recedes to be replaced by a fullness in her heart she didn’t think possible.  

“Well done Milady,” the Midwife says proudly as Marian collapses back onto the bed, drinking in the sight of her child being wrapped in swaddling.  She is the most beautiful thing Marian has ever seen, and tears spill down her cheeks.    

Robin strides into the room, evidently having heard the baby cry and no longer willing to be kept away.  His eyes fall on the child and it seems like he forgets to breath.  

“I am sorry, Milord,” the Midwife says regretfully.  “It is a girl.”

“Why would you be sorry for that?” Robin exclaims, rushing forward to take the child into his arms.  “Boys are nothing but trouble.”

“You’re living proof of that,” Marian says weakly, but all other thoughts dissipate as she watches her husband cradle their child.  Robin moves towards the bed to take a seat beside her, kissing Marian’s temple gently as the baby fits naturally in the crook of his arm.

“Thank you my love,” he murmurs.  “She is perfect.”

“A Christmas baby,” Marian says absently as she reaches out to touch her daughter’s cheek.  Utter joy fills her as she realises that the pain is more than worth it if such a child is the result.  

Robin laughs and nuzzles her cheek with his nose.  “So she will be the second most important child ever born on this day.”

“So modest, Robin?” Marian teases him, tugging on his arm for him to pass the child back to her.  The little girl stares at them with big blue eyes as Marian holds her close.  

“She needs a name,” Robin says.  “How about Beth?”

Marian looks up at him, her husband and lover and dearest friend.  They have not always seen eye to eye, they have bickered and argued and even spent times in stony silence.  But they have loved one another and always reconciled, their love proving stronger with every passing year.  

"Beth."  The name is soft on her tongue, simple and yet with meaning also, to honour the small town where the Lord was born on this day so many years ago.  "It's perfect." 

 

**4.**

“Robin, you are being completely unreasonable.”  Marian stands with her hands on her hips in their bedroom, hoping the servants aren’t listening to them argue. Although it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  

He glowers before her, many years aged but still handsome, his boyish good looks matured from wild outlaw to true nobleman, husband and father.  But he is still quick to anger when he feels he is right, and difficult to persuade otherwise despite their many years together.

“No daughter of mine is going to become a Gisborne,” he declares, sweeping his hand out as that is enough to settle the matter.  

“He will inherit a title, and is heir to his own estate,” Marian points out.  “It is a fine marriage.”

“An estate cleaved out of Locksley’s own holdings!” Robin exclaims.  “Wasn’t I good to Guy?” he continues, beginning to pace the room.  “Didn’t I intercede with the King on his behalf and obtain his pardon?  Didn’t I give him back his family lands when I was under no obligation to do so?”

“And I would suggest in return he has been a good and loyal friend to you these many years,” Marian says, her voice harsh.  “Why let such an old animosity resurface now?”

“Because its _Beth_ ,” Robin says, clearly distressed.  “She’s too good for Gisborne’s son.” 

Marian rolls her eyes.  “Perhaps you feel young Roger is stealing Beth from you, and it reminds you of when you were outlawed and Guy was pursuing me?”

Robin huffs and waves his hand.  “No, of course not.”

“You always were overprotective,” Marian challenges him.  “With me, and now with Beth.  If Much’s son comes courting one of your other daughters will you react the same way?”

“If Jack wants to marry any of my daughters I’d give him my blessing,” Robin declares.  “He’s a fine boy, like his father.”  

“But not Guy’s son,” Marian says, exasperated.  “Even though he was your enemy for three years and has been your friend for over twenty.”

“I am the Lord of the Manor!” Robin exclaims, quite angry now.  “And moreover I am her _father_.  I can forbid her to marry if I choose and it doesn’t matter what my reasons are.”

“And I am her mother,” Marian points out, her voice cool. “As well as the Sheriff of Nottingham, so I feel in this matter that I quite outrank you.”

Robin visibly bristles.  He never wanted to be Sheriff, content with his lands and people and Sherwood which he still feels is part of his home.  But after many years of marriage and bearing her children Marian craved something greater to devote herself to, and up to this point Robin has been her most enthusiastic supporter.  Marian reminds herself of this, as well as her pledge not to use her position to disrupt the equality in their marriage.  

“Besides,” Marian points out more calmly.  “She is too much like both of us - reckless when she knows what she wants.  If we do not allow the marriage she will simply run away with him.”

Robin lets out a long breath, his scowl set so deep she almost forgets what his smile looks like.  But she will not relent, and she knows that Robin is all too aware of this fact.  

"Fine," he says, and stalks out of the room.

They barely speak for months, a distance between them growing.  Marian throws herself into her work in Nottingham and Robin into his life at Locksley; they become almost like cohabitating strangers with neither reaching for the other at night.  Planning the wedding gives Marian little joy, although it gladdens her heart to see Beth so happy and to his credit Robin does not show her his displeasure with the match.  Guy senses it of course but says nothing, perhaps understanding Robin’s perspective better than Marian can - he has a daughter as well.  

Men are so childish about such things.  

Beth insists of having her wedding at Christmastide, wanting her marriage to coincide with the date of her birth for reasons unknown to Marian. Her daughter is such a dreamy girl, and Marian only wants to protect her from the ills of the world so she may never know the hardships her parents faced.

The wedding is beautiful; Locksley church adorned with ivy and holly and filled with the gentle glow of candlelight.  It reminds Marian of her own wedding, the love and contentment she felt on that day coming back to her with sudden force.  Robin sits beside her and she looks at him, taking in the lines on his face, his tawny hair gone mostly grey, the scar on his cheek, all telling the story of a life fully lived.  A life where they have been together more than they have been apart.  

He is weeping, and Marian knows it is from happiness.  She slips her hand into his and their fingers intertwine.  Robin smiles and in an instant the distance between them is breached; they are both still stubborn, and neither will ever admit who gave in first.  

But Marian finds it doesn’t matter.     

 

**5.**

The winter storm rages outside Locksley Manor, but inside Robin and Marian pay it no heed.  They are old now, curled up in bed with their arms around each other to ward off the cold.  The years have been good to them, with bountiful harvests and prosperity spreading throughout the ‘shire so that when Robin tells his grandchildren stories of the hardships of so many years ago they cannot even fathom it.  

It was the life Marian always wanted for them, and nothing has given her so much joy as watching her family grow, except perhaps the satisfaction of her achievements as Sheriff.  Roger of Gisborne holds the position now, and although Guy passed several years earlier from fever and never saw his son achieve what he himself had always coveted, Marian is proud for him as she is proud of her own children.  

They are all one family now, she tells herself, as perhaps they always should have been.  

Robin stirs beside her, and Marian runs a hand gently over his wrinkled brow.  “I love you, my husband,” she whispers softly as he opens his eyes, the glint in them undiminished with age.  

“I love you,” Robin smiles and kisses her softly, “my wife.”


End file.
